The Feeling of Flying
by Cilantro.325
Summary: When Alea finds herself in Narnia after presumably dying in England, she's not sure why she's there, or why Aslan is telling her she has a purpose in this strange land. Delicious Edmund x Alea scenes will ensue, I'm terribly sorry for the summary.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is set during the time that all the Pevensies are in Narnia, about seven or eight years after they first arrived, placing all of them in their twenties, roughly. And, I know, I know, typical girl-falls-into-Narnia fic, but we all have to start somewhere, right? Lastly, for those of you who may not know anything about horses or horse trials, just google "jumping horse show outfits" or something to get an idea of what I'm talking about. It's a difficult sport, and I love it, so I obviously had to include it somehow. That's all.

**Disclaimer:**I, unfortunately, do not own Narnia or any of its residents, except for Alea at the moment.

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><p>The small redhead bent low over the neck of her stallion as he sailed over the jump, body molded to the shape of the horse beneath her as they flew. Her hands stretched out, giving him as much rein as he needed to land without inhibition, and he took it gracefully, forelegs hitting the earth and propelling him forward. This was it. Two more jumps and they would go clear, and the blue ribbon seemed within their reach.<p>

Alea clicked to her black jumper, encouraging him to lengthen his strides as they approached the double oxer. Two other horses had run out at this jump, one had refused, unseating its rider, but Alea knew she didn't have to worry about that with Thoreau. He was as steady now as he had ever been, and as they approached the jump, she felt her worries melt away. He would jump, and jump cleanly. She was sure of it. Thoreau's strides lengthened beneath her, and as soon as they hit the sweet spot right before the fence, he took off, launching them over the trickiest jump on the course. They landed perfectly, a smile of elation on Alea's face as she stretched and gave, giving and taking rein as needed.

Thoreau snorted as they headed for the last jump, a simple vertical. They had won it. Alea could feel it in her bones. There was nothing that could stop them now. As the black horse leaped elegantly over the tall vertical, Alea closed her eyes briefly, savoring the moment of suspension as the two of them hung in the air. The feeling of triumph at their sure win. Then Thoreau landed, and Alea immediately knew something was wrong. There was a click, sort of like a playing card caught in the spokes of a bicycle wheel, and everything felt wrong.

She felt her horse stumble, falling to his knees, and Alea reached forward, giving with the reins, but not feeling him take them. She was catapulted over his head, still reaching for his soft mane, the curve of his neck, but was rewarded with the rough feeling of dirt on her face, and she slid forward as everything started to go black. She lay on the ground, still and bent, time seeming to move in slow motion. A large shadow passed over her vision, and looking up with bloodshot eyes, she saw the shape of her stallion. He too was being catapulted in an almost comical cartwheel, about to land on her small body.

Alea knew she would not survive the impact of a fifteen-hundred pound Dutch Warmblood crushing her into the earth, and the paralyzed muscles of her body prevented her from moving out of the way. Her breath wouldn't come, and it felt like her head was about to explode, but she just laid there, watching the silhouette of her partner in flight coming down toward her. She closed her eyes, preparing to die as the watching crowd shouted, and her world grew dark as a crushing impact knocked any remaining breath from her body, and her vision exploded in hues of red and orange.

Everything went black again, as if someone had simply flipped a switch and turned off the lights, and Alea felt the sounds of the screaming crowd fade away, to be replaced with, oddly enough, the chirping of birds, the rustle of grass. A warm breeze blew across her face, and Alea found herself able to open her eyes. She stared up at a clear blue sky, not at all like the overcast grey one she had seen when she had woken up that morning.

Flexing her muscles, she found that, although a little sore, she was able to move. And to breathe. When she realized this, she took in a shuddering, gasping breath, unable to believe that her lungs were seriously expanding and contracting, sure that she had just been crushed beneath the partner of her heart. Alea slowly sat up, moving and testing her limbs, shocked that nothing seemed broken. She opened her eyes, half expecting to find herself at the golden gates of heaven. But this was much different.

Alea was in the middle of a forest glade, amidst tall trees whose leaves rustled in the wind, and she was sure that she heard whispers on the breeze, faces among the branches that were there for but a moment before disappearing again. Warm, wheat-colored sun delighted on the planes of her face, coloring the world in gentle shades of green and gold and brown, and Alea was nothing if not confused. Last time she'd checked, she'd been in the middle of dreary, overcast England at the horse trials with Thoreau, preparing to win the class that qualified her for Nationals. And now she was here. What had happened to her?

Alea stood to her feet, careful not to upset her precarious balance, looking down to see that she was still dressed in her show clothes from the trial- dove-grey breeches, tall, soft black leather boots, a black show jacket with a lavender ratcatcher, and black gloves. She even still had her crop stuck in one boot. The gold pin she'd received from her father on the eve of his death still glistened at her throat, in place of the standard stock pin most riders wore. Her long, softly curling red hair was still tucked beneath her black velvet helmet. Now she was even more confused- it was like she'd traveled through time, but without her consent.

The sound of muffled paws made Alea freeze, tendrils of fear creeping up her spine, threatening to paralyze her for the second time that day. She'd heard tales of the sorts of wild beasts that one found when far beyond the reaches of civilization, but had always discounted them as silly fools who exaggerated the nature of things. Now that she was here, in this strange place, all alone, she tended toward believing them. Turning around slowly, she struggled to keep from crying out. For less than a meter away from her, certainly within pouncing distance, was a massive golden lion.


	2. Chapter 2

Alea, upon the sight of the monstrous golden lion, didn't quite know what to do. She stood there, mouth open, unable to make a sound, to move, to do much of anything. Was it going to eat her? Should she run? The small woman was running through the options in her head, about to decide on one, when the lion did something terrifying: it spoke.

"Young one, why do you look so afraid?" The voice that emanated from the lion's jaws, peculiar as it seemed, was gentle and wise, holding the weight of a lifetime of knowledge. Alea's jade green eyes widened, and she took one clumsy step back, gloved hand reaching down to hold the handle of her crop. If the lion charged, it would do absolutely no good, but she had to try. Her other hand rubbed her eyes, half wondering if she was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Yes, maybe that was it. When Thoreau had landed on top of her, it had knocked her unconscious and she was dreaming, and-

"This is no dream," the lion said, and Alea merely blinked. Did it read minds? "I am Aslan. It was I who brought you here, Alea." She didn't know what to do, what to say to a… a talking lion, for heaven's sake.

"W-where is here, exactly?" she stammered, wary of the fact that the lion was actually speaking to her. Aslan. Where could she possibly be that they had talking lions?

"You're in Narnia. I brought you here."

"Narnia. I don't recall seeing it on a map," Alea said, voice sticking in her throat. She was struggling with the situation a little bit, and wasn't really quite sure how to respond. The lion chuckled- it _chuckled_- at her, and a blush rose to her cheeks. She couldn't explain why, but it seemed like he was laughing at her. How rude.

"That's because in your world, this place doesn't exist." His cryptic answers were becoming a little irritating as her fear lessened a little, though it still remained. After all, he was a huge lion- bigger than anything she'd seen in a zoo, that's for sure.

"Well, how do you explain that one?" she asked pointedly, crossing her arms. It was sort of strange, but the lion's golden stare almost had a calming effect on the situation, and although the fear hadn't left her, she had the strangest sense that he wasn't there to hurt her. Of course, she could be wrong, but she figured she was already dead, so what was the problem?

"Narnia is much the same as your world," the lion began, the breeze rustling his giant golden mane as he spoke. "It had a beginning, and it will have an end, as all things do. Just because it doesn't exist in your world doesn't mean it isn't real. Here, your world doesn't exist." Alea sighed. He wasn't making things any clearer, not really.

"But why am I here?"

"That is a tricky subject. I cannot tell you everything, and I might as well tell you nothing, but since you asked… I have brought you here because, although your life has ended in your world, you have a purpose that you have not yet fulfilled. You cannot pass into my country with what you have learned and gained in this life, not yet. So I brought you here, where you may continue to live as if you had not died."

Alea's face was incredulous. She couldn't believe what she was hearing- she was dead? She had been killed in the fall? Reaching up, she removed her helmet, her softly curling fire-red hair tumbling down to her waist in loose curls. Holding the helmet in her hands, she stared at it for a few moments, trying to come to terms with what Aslan had said.

"And Thoreau?" she asked, anxious to hear if the partner of her heart was dead for good, or if he would be joining her here. Her face was hopeful, daring to believe that perhaps he would show up in this Narnia too. But the expression on Aslan's features, apology mixed with deep sorrow, told her all she needed to know. Her eyes filled with tears, but she held them back, only a single drop making its way past the dam holding the rest in. "Oh."

"I am sorry, dear one," he replied, golden gaze darkening a bit. Alea was slightly confused with the depth of his sorrow, but was too afraid to ask about it. "All creatures, whether gifted with the Spoken Word or not, are near and dear to my heart. Death causes me pain, for they are like my own children." A flush rose to Alea's pale cheeks, and she felt stupid. Pretty much everything that came out of his mouth made her feel naïve and significantly lacking in knowledge, although she'd guessed that he didn't mean it that way.

Sighing, Alea hastily wiped the tear from her cheek with a gloved hand, trying to mask her sorrow. Thoreau had been hers since he was a foal- she'd raised him, trained him, and taken him up through the levels of show jumping until they were one step away from Nationals. And now he was dead, and apparently she was too, but for some strange reason, this Aslan had chosen to keep her alive.

"So what do we do now?" the small redhead asked, regaining her composure with the practiced ease of one used to hiding her emotions. Aslan padded closer, his pawsteps barely audible in the thick, soft grass.

"Now you go to the castle. I think that, when you tell them your story, the Kings and Queens would be more than happy to welcome you," the lion said in response. "I will give you direction, but you must find it yourself." Alea nodded a little unsure about what kind of land had a ruling class made up of multiple kings and queens. This place seemed a little strange.

The lion quickly gave her a vague set of instructions, dipped his head to her, and flicked his tail in the general direction she should head. Alea turned, studying the landscape, and looked back at Aslan, about to ask a question. But the great lion was nowhere in sight. Confusion rankled her features- where on earth had he gone? A lion of his size didn't just disappear that quickly, and that quietly. This whole land was bonkers.

Shaking her head, the redhead began to walk in the direction that Aslan had indicated, not expecting much of it. The beauty of the landscape was distracting, but she followed the instructions she had been given, and soon the outline of a large castle appeared on the horizon, and the air seemed to be tinged faintly with salt. Alea trudged on for nearly an hour before she reached what seemed to be the gates of the castle's initial courtyard. With a big sigh, she walked through them, unsure as to what this adventure would bring.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as Alea entered the courtyard, she was accosted by a tiny stable boy, who eyed her up and down, gaze almost accusatory. "Who're you?" he asked, with a funny accent that reminded Alea almost of an American one. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see the kings and queens, I guess," she said, the familiar blush rising to her cheeks at his words. She felt strangely uncomfortable at this castle- perhaps it was the fact that Aslan was gone. They had plenty of castles in England, but none quite like this one. She'd discovered that it was on the edge of a cliff by the sea, which explained the briny scent on the breeze, but she didn't know anything more than that.

At her words, the small boy scrunched up his nose, slightly confused. "What are you wearing?"

"Kiarn, be polite," came a deep, gruff voice from somewhere behind Alea and she jumped at the sudden noise. Turning around, she saw a large barrel-chested man with long dark hair and extremely tan skin. He moved with the grace of one who was familiar with horses, and she could smell the familiar scent on his skin. Her heart clenched, as if a fist had tightened around it and squeezed until nothing was left. "I apologize for my son, he's a bit rude. Run along now," he said, and for a moment Alea thought he meant her. That is, until the boy took off running in the opposite direction.

"It's quite alright," she said, feeling slightly ridiculous in her show clothes when she eyed the man's attire- he wore simple breeches and a loose tunic, with tall boots that were neither black nor shiny. It seemed a little strange to her, like it came right out of the middle ages. She felt… overdressed.

"Now, is there something I can help you with, ma'am?" he asked, face open and smiling. She liked him already.

"Yes- I need to speak to the Kings and Queens. Aslan sent me." She threw in that last part in the hopes that it would get her farther with the man, and she wasn't disappointed. A look of shock came over his friendly expression, and his eyes were wide as he stared at her.

"Did you say Aslan?" he breathed, an almost excited look evident on his broad features. "I'm sure their Majesties will want to receive you right away. Please follow me." Alea was surprised at the results name-dropping got, even here. It was one thing back home, but she hadn't expected it to be the same in this strange land. She struggled to keep up with the tall, long-legged man as he nearly ran through the long hallways of the castle, and she barely got a good look at its beautiful interior as she raced to keep pace with the man.

"What did you say your name was?" she panted as they nearly flew up a set of wide stone-flagged steps, struggling to keep herself from tripping.

"I'm sorry," the tanned horseman replied. "I completely forgot- my name's Halin. I'm the head of the stables." Alea felt another tug on her heartstrings, but she quickly pushed Thoreau out of her mind. She would have time to grieve later. Before she had time to respond, Halin slowed to a halt before a large set of oaken doors. "This is it," he explained.

Pounding on the large brass knocker once, he waited a moment before letting himself in. Alea was surprised, and slightly embarrassed when she saw the four figures seated around a large marble table, scrolls and parchment covering the surface. There were two women and two men, and they all looked related. And they were all dressed in medieval-period clothing, which seemed to fit everything else around here and made Alea wonder exactly what year it was.

"Your Majesties, please excuse the interruption," Halin began, stepping aside to reveal Alea. "But this is urgent. She says she has been sent here by Aslan." All four royals stood to their feet, studying Alea with expressions ranging from shock to confusion to excitement. Alea didn't quite know which one of them to look at- they were all very attractive and well dressed, with presences that commanded attention.

"Where are your manners?" said the smallest woman to her siblings, stepping forward. "We must introduce ourselves. I'm Queen Lucy the Valiant, but I absolutely loathe the title. Lucy will do fine. What's your name?" The girl, fair with hair of light brown, had the most welcoming manner to her, and she made Alea immediately want to be her friend. What struck her as being slightly odd was the muted British accent that she possessed, as if she too had left England and come here by Aslan's will. But that was impossible, wasn't it?

"I'm Alea," the small redheaded woman replied, feeling incredible underdressed at the moment, but none of the royals seemed fazed by it, almost as if they'd seen it before.

"And I'm Queen Susan the Gentle," said the second woman, who was exceedingly beautiful, with long black hair that reached past her waist and piercing blue eyes. "But, as my sister already said, don't bother with the title. It just gets in the way. I'm very pleased to meet you." The queen curtsied, and although Alea felt ridiculous doing the same in her breeches and coat, she responded in kind.

"I'm King Edmund the Just," interjected the younger of the two men, stepping forward with a smile. He was broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted, with well-defined muscles visible through the tight tunic he wore. He had a slightly crooked smile, and dark brown hair and eyes that contrasted with his rather pale skin. Alea blushed as he took her hand and kissed it gently, and she instantly hated herself for it. "Edmund is fine with me."

The last to introduce himself was the oldest and most regal of the four siblings. Tall and broad, he was golden-haired and tanned, charmingly handsome, but Alea found his younger brother to be more her type. She blinked, surprised to find herself having those sort of thoughts on such a serious occasion. "I'm High King Peter, the Magnificent. By now I think you know the drill." He kissed her hand as well, but she didn't flush this time.

The High King escorted her to an empty seat, dismissing Halin with a nod. "Now, Alea, would you like to tell us how you came to be here, and how you met the Great Lion?" Without hesitation, Alea told her story, from beginning to end, in detail. The four siblings listened with the utmost fascination to every aspect, their expressions showing how engaged they were. When she finished, interested expressions crossed all of their faces.

"Well, you're certainly welcome to stay here as long as you like," Peter said with a wave of his hand. "The only rooms we have available at the moment are right down the hall, next to Edmund's, but I'm sure he won't be a bother. We have many guests here for the ball, celebrating Su's marriage to the Duke of Archenland." Susan, blushing at Peter's remark and Alea's congratulations, was already rather excited, and reached over to gently touch Alea's arm.

"We can be friends," she smiled, eyes sparkling. "You said you are from England, correct?" Alea nodded. "That's wonderful, simply wonderful. I'll have to tell you our story sometime. I think you'll find it interesting."

"Susan, since you've taken such a liking to our new guest, would you like to show her to her rooms, and find her some suitable clothes?" Alea blushed, for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, and Peter caught it, laughing slightly. "Don't fret- although those might be good for riding, they're no good for a ball, or life around here." Alea was surprised that he knew what her clothing was for- perhaps there was more to their Majesties than meets the eye.

Taking Susan's offered arm, she was whisked away to some other region of the castle to obtain some new garments. And thus her first encounter with King Edmund the Just ended without incident.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I'm sorry if this seems a little slow, but I'm trying to take my time and get the details of the story right instead of rushing into the exciting battles or smut or whatever may be coming. The "exciting" things (the flirtation, the sexual tension, yaddah yaddah) will start appearing in the next chapter, and it'll only get better from there. Don't give up on me yet!

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><p>"We're going to have so much fun together," Susan chattered as she tugged on Alea's arm. "It's been a while since I've had another friend so close to my age." The young queen was eager and open, and Alea welcomed being able to have a non-cryptic conversation with someone in Narnia. "This is the garment room, and this is the best seamstress in all of Narnia, the dryad Calantha."<p>

The dryad was tall and willowy, with long ropes of golden hair flowing to her knees. She was dressed completely in loose green fabric, and she was extraordinarily beautiful. Curtsying with a smile to Queen Susan, she turned to Alea with a look of slight dismay at her attire. "Don't worry m'lady, we can fix that," Calantha said reassuringly. "Would you mind removing that?"

Alea sighed. Now she had to get naked. She was fairly comfortable with her body, so she did as the dryad asked, stripping down to her underwear. At only five feet tall, and weighing barely a hundred pounds, there wasn't much of her to dress, and her fiery red hair made color choices rather limited. She'd never been all that into fashion. The wood nymph began to take measurements- her breasts, which in England had been a 32C, but were probably something strange here; her waist, tiny enough to give her an hourglass figure; her hips, which she had always thought were too large for her body type; the length of her legs, long and lean, good for wrapping around horses' broad backs. Her entire body was well muscled and thin from a lifetime of equestrianism. Her pale skin seemed to be a beacon of light in the room, and she suddenly found herself wishing she was tan.

"You're quite small, ma'am, but I'm sure I can doctor up a wardrobe for you," the dryad said confidently. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

While the two of them waited for the garment maker's return, Susan began to ask questions about Alea's life before all of this. Where she lived, about her horses, her schooling. She seemed surprised when Alea told her she had just finished her senior year at Oxford, as a music major. "Really? It figures that you're a music person," Susan said, pretending to pout. Alea was obviously confused, because Susan began to explain. "It's just that you're already so pretty and tiny and graceful, but you have to be smart _and _musical. Life's so unfair."

Alea wanted to roll her eyes, but was aware that she was in the presence of royalty and she was a little unsure of her position at the moment. "Please. You're a queen." And she left it at that. "Now, since we're waiting, do you want to tell me why you know so much about my world?"

Susan smiled, eyes glinting mischievously. "It used to be our world too, you know." And she began a tale so intricately woven that Alea thought it could have been a novel. They were from England, just like her, only they weren't dead in their world. Alea was. She could never go back. Before any more comments could be exchanged, Calantha made her entrance with a large pile of gowns and dresses.

"Now, my choices were limited by your size and hair color, but I've found about fifteen dresses that should work, and with your measurements I have my seamstresses started on about ten more, including a gown for the ball next week. I have an absolutely marvelous idea for that." Shifting the pile of fabric into Alea's arms, the tiny woman couldn't even see. "On second thought, I'll have that sent to your room. You're free to go."

"Thank you, Calantha," Alea said shyly, hating it when people did things for her. It made her feel… guilty. The dryad acknowledged her thanks with a nod and a smile before exiting the room again. Alea quickly pulled her breeches and ratcatcher back on, not bothering with her coat, gathering her spare items in her hands.

"Now I can show you to your room!" Susan seemed almost girlish in her excitement as she once again began to pull Alea along, not really realizing that, although long for her height, the redhead's legs were much shorter than hers. Susan was almost a foot taller than her- all of the royals seemed to be nearly six feet, if not more- and seemed to make no allowances for shorter strides. They headed back the way they came, and Alea recognized a few things on their route.

Passing the study doors, they continued on down the hallway until they came to a section that contained four or so doors, presumably entrances to others' rooms. "King Edmund's rooms are just behind that door there," Susan pointed, indicating the door right next to hers. "I don't remember who are in the other rooms, probably some lords or ladies from Archenland that I'll get to know once I move there."

A slight sadness dampened Alea's brow- Susan was the best friend she had here, even though it had only been a few hours since she'd arrived. At least she seemed happy about her impending marriage. The ball, which she'd found out was to take place next week, was actually going to be on the evening of the wedding, and Alea was surprised to find herself slightly excited for the thing.

Snapping her out of her reverie, Susan pushed the door open into Alea's rooms. Beautifully decorated in the shades of the forest, the sitting room was covered in greens, browns, golds and blues that reminded her of the field she'd woken up in. "It's beautiful," breathed Alea. So much better than her apartment over the stable. "The best part's the bedroom," Susan replied, grinning.

Through a door to the right was the bedroom, and Alea gasped when she walked in. It was sumptuously decorated in rich, deep purples, crimsons and golds, with a sheer canopy over the massive bed in the center. "I- I don't know what to say," the redhead murmured.

"A simple thank you would suffice," Susan said cheekily, and Alea resisted the urge to reach over and swat the queen's arm. Before she could say anything more, the slightly muffled clanging of a bell interrupted, signaling the castle. "Ah, dinner time. I think you'll find that your garments have already arrived in that dresser there- pick something and get dressed quickly. I don't want our food to get cold!"

Slightly confused, Alea crossed to the dresser, opening the smooth doors. Surprisingly enough, all of the dresses Calantha had tailored were already there. Strange. Unsure which one was to choose, she just pulled the first dress her hand touched. It was a floor-length forest green number, with sleeves that would reach to just below her elbow. Stripping to her undergarments, she pulled the dress on over her head, Susan helping her lace up the back. "Mm, that color is stunning on you," the queen murmured as she pulled the laces tighter.

"Easy, Susan, I have to be able to breathe," muttered Alea as the bodice was pulled almost impossibly tight, pushing her breasts up and out. Great. She'd always hated their size, wished they were smaller. They got in the way of things, and this dress made them look all the more large. But the rest of the gown was beautiful, with a full skirt that reached to the floor, and a delicate lace neckline. It was simple, but well made and it brought out her jade-green eyes.

"I'm afraid we don't have time to do anything with your hair, and none of us Narnians really ever use makeup, so this will do for tonight," Susan said, running a critical gaze over her newfound friend. "Here, put these on." She handed Alea a pair of black shoes, almost more like ballet slippers, and she slipped them on without protest. She felt quite uncomfortable in full-on dress mode, normally preferring breeches and a shirt, but she knew that this was what was worn around here, and she almost liked it.

"Okay, okay, let's go!" Alea said, impatient. She was starving, and all this fashion stuff was making her a little grouchy. Chuckling, Susan linked arms with the smaller woman, and they walked down to dinner together.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **A big thank you to Pendragon2601 for the great reviews, I really appreciate it! As far as the issue of the story fitting into canon, I do realize that they do not marry or have children, and I'm not sure whether this will stay canon or not as of right now. I'll be sure to say so when I have decided one way or the other, but for now let's just say that this is going to remain canon. Thanks for reading, and I hope anyone who's still invested in this sticks with me here!

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><p>Dinner was… uncomfortable. Alea was used to making quick sandwiches or pasta in her apartment, or skipping meals altogether because of chores, but here it seemed like eating was a big deal. Susan, thankfully, had sat next to her, and was explaining everything as it came out, taking a bit of the pressure off of her, but by about the third course, Alea found herself getting full. "How much longer is this going to last?" she asked Susan, trying to keep the desperate plea from her voice.<p>

"We only have a few more courses to go," Susan laughed, picking at the salad in front of her. "The main dish is next- roast wild board. Not a Talking one, though, that would never do." Alea sighed. Great. She was a vegetarian.

"Not to be rude," Alea began, hesitating, "but I don't eat meat." Susan surprised the redhead by laughing again, the sound akin to the daintiest of bells. Alea started to feel the flush rising to her cheeks, struggling to keep it down.

"Don't be silly. None of us do," Susan replied. Alea's startled glance prompted an explanation from the Gentle Queen. "You see, there are those of us here who find that, since arriving, eating meat is far less appealing than it was back home. After meeting animals who can Talk, it's rather easy to just skip the carnivorous portions of the meal. You just take less, and slip it to the dogs."

That seemed so… childish to Alea, something that she had done when she was three or four to get out of eating her vegetables. It didn't fit that the Kings and Queens of Narnia were sitting here feeding what they didn't like to the dogs under the table, and it was even stranger that she hadn't noticed it. They were awfully good at hiding it. Sighing again, Alea sat back to wait for the next dish to come out- the wild boar.

The sight of it almost made Alea want to gag- she hadn't eaten meat for eight years, and the scent of the boar nauseated her. She sat through the meal with barely concealed disgust, feeding the pieces of bloody meat to the dogs under the table who darted this way and that, not ever sure whom to take the meat from. Much to her relief, though, the boar was a big hit among most of the guests, who had no such scruples about eating wild animals, and the meal was soon over after the final course was served.

As soon as everyone had finished, they wandered over to one corner of the huge room, mingling and talking and laughing with each other. Alea stayed for a while, but she still felt largely uncomfortable among so many people that had lived in such wealth their whole lives. She pretty much stuck to Susan the whole time, although she felt guilty for being so clingy. Having just made her excuses, she turned to leave and ran smack into what felt like a brick wall. Well, it wasn't.

It was a man, and that man had been holding a flute of champagne, which the impact had caused him to spill on the breast of his finely embroidered tunic. "Ah, damn," he muttered, and Alea immediately began to apologize. "I am so, so sorry," she said as she tried to brush it off, but he was trying to do the same, and their hands touched for a brief moment. Both of them paused, and Alea looked up to find herself staring into the warm brown eyes of King Edmund the Just. A heated flush obviously began to rise to her features, and she continued to apologize profusely.

"It's nothing," he said, pulling his hand away quickly. "I think I'll get a rag from the kitchen and see if it will come out. You can join me if you'd like, since you _are_ the one who spilled it." His joke went over Alea's head, since she was so concerned with Edmund's poor tunic that she wasn't really listening. He sighed, and gestured in the direction of the castle kitchen, and she scurried alongside him, her short strides having difficulty keeping up with his long, sweeping ones.

In the kitchen, which was oddly deserted, having just finished a large meal for over three hundred people, Edmund wetted a cloth and began to dab at his tunic. "I'm so sorry," Alea said again, feeling terrible for not watching where she was going. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's quite alright," the tall man interrupted with a smile. "I don't mind. Where were you off to in such a hurry, anyway?" He cocked an eyebrow at her when she hesitated, unsure if she felt comfortable actually talking to this man, but she eventually sighed.

"I was leaving."

"Leaving? But the party's only just started."

"I know, but I wasn't really enjoying myself." Silence met her words, prompting more explanation. "I've spent most of my life around horses, not people. I can't help it that I'm socially inept." Alea was a little irritated at the king's smirk, and, for the second time that day, had to resist the urge to smack a royal on the arm. Absentmindedly dabbing at the stain, Alea realized he was studying her face. The blush returned to her cheeks- damn, it was like she was always sunburned with how quick her flushing reflex seemed to be in the presence of the four siblings. "What?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at the handsome king.

"I like it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Blush." Alea felt her face go crimson, sure it matched her hair in color. Great. Now he was teasing her for something she couldn't really help. She started to turn away, struggling to hide her embarrassment, but Edmund reached out a hand, catching her chin in his rough hands. He turned her face toward him, a more solemn expression on his face now. "I'm being serious."

With that, he set the rag down on the table, sighing, and bowed deeply to Alea, whose mouth was working to bring words to her lips, but none would come. She didn't quite know how to respond, still couldn't tell if he was kidding. A light smile touched on the corners of Edmund's mouth as he stood for a moment, staring at her, but he then took his leave, returning to the party and leaving her in the kitchen more confused then when she came in.

The remnants of her blush still lingering on the apples of her cheeks, Alea exited through the side door of the kitchen, unsure of where she was going, and found herself in an unfamiliar hallway. Great. She wandered for quite a while before she started to recognize her surroundings, and was able to find her way back to her chambers. Opening the dresser doors, she quickly struggled to get that green concoction off of her body and hanging back up in its proper position. It was much more difficult without Susan to lace and unlace the back.

After she carefully hung the dress back up, she stood naked before the overwhelming amount of fabric, unsure what she should wear to sleep in, or if the Narnians slept in anything at all. It was then a piece of paper tacked to the inside of the door caught her attention. It was from Calantha:

"Milady, I apologize if I did not make things clear to you earlier today, but this note is to explain the things you find in your closet."

There was a detailed list of the contents, where and when to wear them, things to wear them with. There were day gowns and evening gowns, dresses for riding and dresses for taking walks. It was all far too complicated for Alea, but she figured she'd better follow the instructions on the note or she'd look like a simple fool. Finally, she figured out what she was to sleep in, and pulled the loose white shift from the closet, marveling at the cool softness of the fabric.

She quickly pulled it over her head, enjoying the way it floated down and settled around her curves. Closing her eyes and sighing, she turned to the bed and flopped down, a smile spreading across her face. This, to her, was living in the lap of luxury. Alea was about to wriggle beneath the covers and fall asleep, but her plans were foiled by a knock at the door. She groaned. If it were Susan, that would be one thing, but anyone else would get the death glare.

She forced herself to walk to the door, opening it with a blank expression, but was shocked when she saw King Edmund standing at her door. Suddenly she felt very exposed in the simple white shift, which didn't really leave a whole lot to the imagination. Apparently it had the same effect on him, and she took a sort of perverse pleasure in seeing a blush rise upon _his_ cheeks this time, even though she was flushed as well.

"Lady Alea, I'm sorry, I just-" he stammered, struggling with his words. The dark-haired king kept his eyes glued to her face, afraid to let them wander. "I wanted to apologize for teasing you earlier, that's all." His words came quickly and sounded sort of strained- he wasn't used to encountering girls wearing anything less than extravagant ball gowns, apparently. Alea found it to be quite funny.

"Please, not Lady Alea. Alea is fine. And you're welcome, I'd guessed you were just having a bit of fun. No hard feelings." Alea found herself having to hold in laughter at the situation- it was just so funny. King Edmund, one of the kings of Narnia, standing at her door, trying not to look at her when she was wearing nothing but a shift, and apologizing for teasing her. It was just funny.

Relief loosened some of his tension, though it barely made a dent in his awkward position. "Well, that's good. Good night, then, Alea."

"Good night, King Edmund." With a curtsy, she closed the door as he started to walk away, almost running. As soon as the door shut, she collapsed in a fit of laughter, sagging against the strong wood of the door. For a moment she thought she heard Edmund's footsteps pause, but they resumed again so she paid them no mind. It was just too funny.

Still chuckling, Alea went right back to her bedroom, extinguished the candles, and went to sleep. Things were getting a little more interesting around here.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Thank you again to Pendragon2601 for the reviews, it's keeping my spirits up (: For the record, I completely agree with you about the last chapter. I woke up today in a completely different mood (impatient!) and it went by a little too fast. I tend to skip over things I shouldn't to try and finish faster. I promise I won't intentionally do that again. Enjoy everyone!

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><p>The next morning, Alea awoke at the loud clanging of the bell throughout the castle. Groaning, she rolled over and yawned, but she knew she couldn't just stay in bed and sleep all day. She needed to figure out what she would be doing while she was here. There was no way she was going to sit around on her bum all day- she was used to active work, hard labor, and she wasn't about to turn herself into a sissy by lazing around indoors all hours. Swinging her feet over the side of the huge bed, they dangled there for a few moments, several inches from the floor. It was like everyone in Narnia was expected to be six feet tall.<p>

Narnia. Her breath left her in a whoosh of air as she realized how ridiculous it still sounded to her ears. She was from England, on Planet Earth. Everything she'd ever known and loved was in England. This still felt like a dream to her, something she'd tried to forget. But it was real, and it was a bit of a shock to her system. Narnia. It just didn't seem like something that would ever happen to Alea- she'd been yanked out of her own world as she had lay there dying, and had been propelled into this strange fantasy land. And all for what- to play dress-up with Queen Susan? What the hell did Aslan want from her? Was he even real?

Shaking her head, clearing the slight fuzziness that lingered still from sleep and having a glass too many of champagne the night before, she rose to her feet, meandering over to the dresser that held her clothing. Another laugh threatened to bubble from her lips as she stared at the ridiculous gowns, things she'd never have been caught dead wearing back in England. No, she couldn't bring herself to wear one today. Feeling rebellious, she pulled on her breeches and tall boots, the only change being to yank a loose long-sleeved lavender tunic from its hangar, tucking the billowy shirt in so that it didn't fall to her knees. Not even Susan could make her wear a dress today.

Feeling satisfied, she pulled her flame-red hair back in a braid, tying it off with ease. Without a glance at herself in the mirror, she strolled out of her rooms and into the hallway. If she took the time to think about what she was about to do, she would lose her nerve. Alea knew she would never get over her grief, but she had to try and move past it. That's why she intended to spend her day working in the stable. It would both comfort and distress her, but she was sure it would help a little.

Making her way swiftly through the halls, she tried to avoid being seen by anyone who would recognize and detain her. She managed to make it all the way out to the stables without incident, which was good. Had she been stopped, Alea wouldn't have been able to work up the courage to keep going. The familiar scent of hay and horses hit her like a brick wall, and she swayed briefly as her eyes closed, unsure of her balance. The grief swept over her like a tidal wave, threatening to dash her against the rocky shore. It hurt to breathe, and her thoughts were swimming for their lives. He was dead. Gone. They would never ride together again, would never soar over fences like-

"Can I help you miss?" came a voice, slicing through the fog that covered her like a knife. Startled, Alea's eyes opened wide, surprised to find tears running down her cheeks. Quickly trying to wipe them away with her sleeve, she sniffed once, wishing she hadn't let the tears fall. The voice came from another stable boy, sixteen or so, that she hadn't met the first day. He was looking at her with a mix of disdain and confusion, and was holding a well-oiled saddle on one arm.

"Y-yes, I'm sorry. Is Halin here?" Alea asked for the stable manager she had met yesterday, not wanting to have to deal with this boy. She just wanted to work, and work hard, not be questioned or stared at. "No," the boy replied, still wary of her. "He's out with the Kings, hunting. Do you need something?"

Alea hesitated to ask, knowing that the boy already distrusted her because of her strange attire and unfamiliar face, but she had to do something familiar, something that gave her even the smallest piece of home. Though it pained her to be here, threatened to overwhelm her, it gave her peace at the same time. "I want to work." Baling hay, mucking out stalls, fixing fences, she could and would do anything. It had been her life since she could remember.

"I'm sorry?" the boy asked, face crinkled in confusion. "Who are you again?"

"My name's Alea, I'm a guest of the castle," she briefly explained, not wanting to tell this boy anything more than her name. "Do you have work for me to do or not?"

"I guess," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "The horses have all been turned out. Pitchforks are over there, muck pile's out there. Wheelbarrow's right there. Knock yourself out." The boy turned and walked into what must have been a tack room, and emerged a few moments later only to make his way up to the hayloft. Closing her eyes again, Alea took a few steadying breaths. This was a stable, yes. Thoreau, partner of her soul, was dead. She was dead. Hell, for all she knew, everyone here was dead. But the work remained the same.

Grabbing a pitchfork, she moved down the aisle to the first row of stalls. The stable was huge, able to house at least a hundred horses, but she knew she could get it done before dinner. She'd been mucking stalls since she was five. Alea quickly became numb to the dull, repetitive work, reveling in the feeling of her toned muscles working and responding. She didn't have to think about it, she could just let her mind go numb. Maybe that was why she liked it so much. Her mind could be totally empty- for her, it was better than meditation.

The scents and sounds of the stable hurt her with every breath, but she blocked them out with the monotony of her task, shoveling endless forkfuls of manure and straw into the barrel, wheeling it out and dumping it before bringing it back in and repeating the process. She continued without stopping, mind completely blank, just focusing on her muscles and the floor in front of her. At about midday, the stable boy tossed her half a sandwich, which she ate hurriedly. She hadn't realized how ravenous she was. But as soon as the food had disappeared, she was back to work, and by the time the sun had started to sink in the sky, the stalls were finished.

The work had dulled the pain for a day, and it held off for a little while longer as she put back all the tools she'd used for the labor. "Wheelbarrow goes over there," the stable boy said, pointing to an aisle Alea hadn't noticed before. As she walked to put away the wheelbarrow, her heart sank. There were only four stalls in the row, two on each side. The royals' horses. And one of them wasn't out in the pasture- instead, the black stallion hung his head over the door, nickering when he saw Alea approach. She stopped in her tracks, freezing so completely that she dropped the handles of the wheelbarrow, and they hit the ground with a crash.

The stallion, not spooked, snorted, bobbing his head up and down. The same thing Thoreau used to do. The tears welled up in Alea's eyes again and she found herself unable to speak or move as the pain crashed into her again, threatening to engulf her in sorrow and despair. It was impossible- he looked just like her partner of the skies. The same color, height, bone structure. Even the same glint in the eyes. It was all too much, and yet she couldn't stop staring. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand, without realizing she was doing so. Her eyes were glazed over- she was seeing Thoreau there, not the horse that was truly in front of her.

When the stallion reached his nose toward her, his soft velvet muzzle brushing her skin, the spell was broken and Alea spun on her heels, taking off for the castle and the sanctity of her rooms, the tears flowing freely now. She knew it would be a mistake to go down there. Now the pain was even fresher, and it seemed like it would never go away.


	7. Chapter 7

She ran blindly back toward her room, not caring who saw her. This was too much. Who the hell did Aslan think he was, anyway? God? No. He was a goddamn lion, and he had no right to pull her into this misery. This was hell. Worse than hell, because everyone around her saw, pitied her. And that was worse than hell. Alea didn't even care where she was going any more, and just did her best not to run into walls. She ran and ran, the physical labor she'd already done that day taking a toll on her endurance, but she didn't stop.

The feelings were so strong, the grief so overwhelming, that she was starting to get desperate. If she killed herself in this world, would Aslan bring her back? Or would he let her rest in peace? At least if she died and went to heaven, Thoreau would be there too. Who cared what kind of lessons she could learn from this purgatory? It made no difference to her. She would rather be dead. This was too much like what had happened to her father. She should be dead like him. Dead like her mother. This wasn't fair. Eventually her exhaustion caught up with her, and she curled up in a ball in a dark corner, shaking. The tears were streaming down her face, seemingly endless, blurring her vision and wetting the front of her tunic.

As the mental image of that black horse, the Thoreau-lookalike pushed its way to the front of her mind, her body began to rock. Back and forth, back and forth, she probably looked like she belonged in the psych ward. Maybe she did. Maybe if they gave her a sedative, it would numb her mind, and she wouldn't have to deal with this any more. A wretched sob escaped Alea's tight throat, and she pounded her fists once on the ground, grief strengthening her muscles. Again and again, she lashed out with her fists, reveling in the release it gave. Her mind was blank, numb with rage as her arms whirled, pounding her fists into solid stone. The floors, the walls, anything was fair game

Her vision, though still blurred, was red as anger, hot and boiling, coursed through her. They had no right to take her from her world, to take Thoreau from her. She should be dead, dead with him. Not here in this fantasy land playing make-believe. For Christ's sake, she would have rather been in the Treachery, the Ninth Circle of hell, than here. Anywhere but here.

The furious strength in her limbs exhausted, her windmilling slowed, then ceased. She lay there sobbing, small body trembling, blood pooling on the stone floor where her hands rested. Her knuckles had been split open by the repeated contact with the hard stone, but she didn't care. Hell, nothing mattered any more. The sound of footsteps in the hallway did nothing to affect her, and she remained curled up in a ball, tears and blood mixing on the floor. Alea was sure she looked like hell, but she didn't give a damn right now. She just wanted her heart mate back.

The footsteps drew nearer and nearer until they quickened in pace, and stopped by her feet. Alea never looked up. She simply continued to cry, though her tears were coming to an end. Her body had spared as much moisture as it could. She felt a large, slightly rough hand reach out and touch her shoulder, gentle as the kiss of a butterfly, but shocking to no end.

Her whole body reacted to the contact, and she leapt back, breathing heavily, eyes flying open. Shock mixed with horror as she realized who had come upon her in her hour of grief. It was King Edmund. He opened his mouth, as if to say something to her, but Alea didn't give him the chance. She struggled to her feet, sagging against the wall, and took off down the hallway, never looking back. She would not be confronted by him, not now. Her tears ceased as she ran, though she was sure she looked quite a sight to anyone she passed. Though the tears would no longer come, her grief was no less.

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><p><em>King Edmund's Perspective<em>

He watched her go flying down the hallway, helpless to stop her. It hurt his heart to see her like this, so vulnerable, so broken. Sighing, he rose to his feet, about to leave, when he caught the sight of the blood congealing on the floor. Edmund's dark eyebrows came together, furrowed in concern. She'd hurt herself. And judging by the little pieces of skin and scrapes of blood on the walls, she'd been punching things. He felt heavy, weighted down by his empathy for her. He knew basically what she'd been through, but hadn't realized the depth of the bond between her and her stallion. Still, it seemed a little strange that she was reacting so strongly to this situation. Perhaps Susan would know.

Picking himself up, he went quickly to the study where he knew his eldest sister was passing the time. "Su, I need to have a chat with you," he said as he pushed open the thick doors. Sure enough, she was sitting by the marble table, nose in a book. She looked up at him, expression befuddled at the urgency of his tone, then worried when she saw the blood on his hand. "It's not mine."

Quickly, he told the tale of what he had seen in the hallway, and what he had deduced from the blood she'd left behind. Susan was quiet, her expression blank, which worried him. He'd known there was more to this than she'd been letting on.

"Come on, Su, give it up," Edmund prodded, leaning forward. He felt compelled to fix her, to fix whatever had broken inside of Alea. The king felt sort of… protective of her, for some odd reason. She was lost and alone in their world, and he felt a strange tugging on his heart to make her better.

"Fine. First of all, she's been with that horse from birth. It was the colt of her father's favorite mare, which died giving birth to it. Her father's dead too, much the same way Alea died. Crushed underneath a friend's horse on a jumping course. Her mum's been dead since she was four. Suicide. Lost all her family, and now she's supposed to be dead, and she's not. It's shock." Susan told her story quickly, summarizing what Edmund was sure held a world of pain for the tiny redhead. Now it made more sense.

"I had no idea," Edmund murmured, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them.

"None of us did," Susan replied, turning away. "She's going to need comfort, care that I alone cannot give. You must help me." Without looking at him, Susan nodded her head. She already knew that Edmund was emotionally invested in this girl. It wouldn't take hardly any convincing to get him to agree. She was sure he already had.

"Of course. I will do what I can. Thank you, fair sister." With a bow, he took his leave, intending to speak to Alea within the hour. If he left her alone, he was scared what would happen, what she might do to herself. When she'd opened her eyes and stared at him, the depths of her despair had been like a bottomless black pit, sucking in all of her life and vitality, drawing the spark right out of her. He couldn't let that happen to her. For some inexplicable reason, Aslan had sent her here to live out the life her world would have cut short. And he would not let her leave it before it was her time to go.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thank you guys for the favorites and the reviews, it's been encouraging for me, since I struggled with this chapter a little bit. I don't know why, I seem to have a bit of writer's block, but I hoped I achieved the effect I was going for. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

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><p>King Edmund's heart ached for her. He felt so protective of her, and believed she should not be suffering as she was. The young king would do anything to quench the bottomless wells of her sorrow, but he didn't know that she would let him. But he had to try. He walked quickly through the halls of the castle, wishing that, for once, the large stone building wasn't so, well, large. It proved to be inconvenient at times like this. He was worried about what was happening in his absence, and what Alea had done in the time since she'd fled from him. He knew the look in her eyes, had seen it in one of his schoolmate's from England the day before he hung himself. He was worried.<p>

As he walked, his mind was drawn back to that day, the day when his mother had come into the sitting room, pale as death, and told him the news. Edmund remembered the shock, but the realization that he'd known that something was going to happen. And the fact that he'd done nothing about it, and now it was too late to save his friend. He'd simply gotten up without a word, stony-faced, and shut himself in his room for the remainder of the day. He never shed a tear, never let on that he was upset. Just thought. And regretted. But this time, he wasn't about to let her slip away.

When Edmund reached Alea's rooms, he lifted a fist, preparing to knock on the door. As soon as his knuckles touched the wood, however, the door swung in. It was open, and unlocked. The front room was dead silent, and empty as a tomb.

"Alea?" he called, his voice obnoxiously loud in the stillness. When nothing greeted his words, he stepped toward what he knew to be the bedroom. At first, he saw nothing. Then he walked all the way into the bedroom, and realized what he was seeing. Alea lay collapsed on the ground, blood flowing from both wrists at an alarming rate. A shattered mirror lay in shards around her still body, a single sliver gripped in one of her deathly pale hands.

Edmund's heart stopped.

Racing to her side, he frantically felt for a pulse in the crook of her neck, trying not to panic. This couldn't be happening to him, not again. She'd already died once. She didn't need to die again. Hesitating, unsure if he could do more damage by moving her, Edmund made a decision and scooped her up in his arms. He was surprised by how little she weighed- she was tiny, that was certain, but she was barely a hundred pounds. It felt like he was holding a fragile child in his arms.

Her blood began to drip onto his arms and torso, staining his tunic, but he cared little for his clothing. All Edmund wanted was to get her to the doctor alive. Carefully, he began to run, trying not to jog her. He held the small woman tightly against his chest, whispering to her as he ran. "You're going to be okay," he murmured, "I promise." Of course, that was a promise he couldn't guarantee, but it wasn't like she could hear him anyway.

Bursting into the doctor's quarters, he nearly collapsed with relief when the short, portly man turned around, scratching his bald spot with irritation at the intrusion. His expression quickly evaporated, replaced by one of shock and concern when he realized what Edmund held in his arms. "Put her on the bed," barked the round doctor, putting on his thick glasses and pushing up his sleeves. "What happened?"

As Edmund detailed the events he could, the doctor quickly went to work, binding her cuts and applying something yellow and smelly that Edmund could only guess at its purpose. He didn't interfere; he just sat back, ready to help if he was needed. As the doctor worked on Alea, his look of concern darkened to a scowl. Edmund's pulse sped up. This couldn't be good.

"She's lost a lot of blood, Your Majesty," the doctor said gruffly, replacing the bandages as they became soaked with the red fluid. He kept pressure on the cuts, hoping that the bleeding would stop before she died of blood loss. "I can't guarantee you a thing." Edmund sat back, his expression horrified as the reality of what was happening hit him.

For the second time in his life, he'd let someone he knew commit suicide without trying to stop them. It was his fault she was lying here, dying on the bed- he'd seen her eyes, he could have stopped her. But no, he had to take a detour to see Susan, and in his absence Alea had hurt herself, perhaps irreparably. The guilt was overwhelming as he stared down at the blood-soaked bandages with unseeing eyes. She wouldn't be here bleeding out if it wasn't for his lack of punctuality. For Aslan's sake, he should have stopped her. He could've stopped her.

Why did he feel so responsible? It's not like he even really _knew_ Alea. He'd met her, what, a few days ago? That was hardly long enough for a bond of even true friendship to form between them, and he barely saw her. She probably had forgotten his name. So why the hell did he feel so protective of this woman? She was beautiful, sure, and talented, but he didn't know her. He had perhaps thought he had, but apparently he didn't know her well enough to save her. And now she was dying, and he just felt like he hadn't had enough time with her.

All that was left to do was to sit, and wait for her to wake up.

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><p>Before Alea's eyes opened, she felt the fire burning in her wrists and lower arms. It felt like someone had split open her skin and torn out the veins, the muscles, the tendons and ligaments. But the fact that her world was fuzzy dulled the pain, and made everything seem muted and soft. A low moan escaped her lips as she opened her eyes, immediately blinking them shut as the light from the window streamed into the cheery room, blinding her. "Damn." Her tortured throat barely made any noise, scratchy from dehydration. She wanted water.<p>

Before she could say anything else, she felt the cool surface of a cup pressed to her lips, and she drank without complaint. The pure water flowed down her throat, healing and soothing as it went. As she lay there for a moment, contemplating what had happened to her, she realized. Her eyes flew open, her muscles tensed. She was alive. What the hell? She was supposed to be dead. What kind of trick was this? When her eyes focused, much to her surprise she saw King Edmund sitting at the foot of her bed, staring at her with eyes that held mixed emotions; mournful sorrow mingled with elated joy, producing a strange emotion that Alea couldn't name.

Her face turned red, and as soon as it did, she remembered a few nights ago, when they'd both had a little too much to drink and he'd told her that he liked it when she blushed. But that was a distraction from the topic on hand. She was supposed to be dead, but she was laying here instead, feeling like her arms were on fire, staring at King Edmund the Just. What had gone wrong?

"You're awake," he said, voice heavy and dark. Relieved, but almost… angry, somehow. Alea didn't reply. "Why did you do it?" Edmund's voice almost broke, and for a moment Alea saw a flash of something on his features- regret, maybe? Or was it relief? She couldn't tell, but she knew she owed him an answer. She'd guessed that it had been he who found her and carried her to this strangely cheerful room.

"I-I couldn't deal with it any more. I just couldn't." Turning her face away, she stared at the bandages wrapped around her left wrist, obscuring the marks from her view. "I was so angry, I just lost it. I shattered the mirror and- well, you know. You saw, didn't you?" Edmund looked away now as Alea turned her gaze back to him. He seemed almost embarrassed, as if he regretted what he had done.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry," she offered, still staring at him with a serious expression. "This is just all too much. I should be dead. Not here. Dead."

"No," Edmund whispered. "I'm sorry. For not realizing. For not stopping you. This is my fault." Alea was surprised, and more than a bit confused. They barely knew each other, and he was saying that it was his fault? That couldn't be right. Her confusion was evident on her features, but Edmund was reluctant to explain, so Alea left it at that. Maybe later he would explain to her.

"I'm sorry," he reiterated, rising to his feet. "I want to stay, but Susan and the others will want to know you're awake. Are you well enough to receive visitors?" His expression had returned to careful neutrality, and he looked at her with eyes that thinly veiled his emotions. She nodded, still confused, still embarrassed that he had seen what she had done. It should have ended there on the floor of her bedroom, but she lived on. Aslan must have been serious when he said he had a plan for her here.

Turning his back without another word, he exited the room, leaving Alea with a heart that ached, but she didn't know why.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Thank you so much for the favorites and reviews, it's been really nice (: I just want to address a few things- first of all, sorry my update has been so long in coming, I have exams these next few weeks, and a major, major week of choir concerts right after that, so I have no time. The second thing I want to address is something Pendragon brought up- the whole "Mary-Sue" thing.

For those of you who don't know this (this is probably all of you), this story didn't just come out of nowhere. The character of Alea is based, not even really loosely, off of a very close friend of mine who, last year, lost her horse in a freak jumping accident. Of course, she didn't fall into Narnia, but this is all very much her story- she was devastated, suicidal, then fell in love with the right guy who sort of pulled her out of it. So I understand that it may seem a little Mary Sue-ish, but it's not. Alea is basically following the exact same storyline that my friend did. As you follow this story, you'll learn more about what my friend went through. She did me the honor of letting me read her journals from this time period, so that's where my insight is coming from.

So this story is dedicated to her, and her happy ending. Thank you for reading!

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><p><em>King Edmund's POV<em>

As soon as he exited the room, the tall, strong king sagged against the stone wall, eyes briefly shutting. She was okay. She would live, no thanks to him. Or was it thanks to him? He had no idea whether he had truly saved her life, or only prevented her from the inevitable. But, of course, Susan and the rest would be waiting to hear what had transpired, so he forced himself to walk away, his gait tense, strides short. It was hard for him to walk away so soon. He just wanted to stay there, contemplating the events of the past few days. It seemed like so long ago that Alea had appeared in the Pevensies' study, dressed in clothes none of them had seen for years, dead to her own world but alive in theirs.

In reality, though, it had been but a few days. Thankfully, Alea had slept for almost an entire day before waking up a few moments ago. He had found her at nearly ten o'clock the evening before, and it was now close to suppertime of the next day. But, judging by her frail state, she had needed the sleep. And he hadn't been about to rob her of that.

Before Edmund realized it, he was at the wooden doors of the study, preparing to enter and tell the good news to his sibling. But he didn't want to. He wanted to keep her all to himself, keep her safe and sheltered in the privacy of her room, undisturbed. But that was no way for her to live, and it was an absolutely ridiculous idea to begin with. So he pushed open the doors, expression blank and tired. When the doors swung wide, revealing the interior of the study, he saw his three siblings immediately rise to their feet. They had been waiting, then.

"Ed, what happened?" asked Lucy as she rushed to his side, placing her hand on his shoulder. Her wide blue eyes were worried and anxious, and Edmund's, he was sure, held nothing less. "Please tell us. We've been waiting all night- no one had told us anything."

"S-she," he began, voice breaking with a combination of tiredness and anger. "She was bleeding out on the floor, I had to help her. I had to help her." His eyes were unfocused, staring at the floor as his body trembled once, revealing the lack of sleep and amount of stress he had been under. Susan quickly pulled him over to a chair, sitting him down firmly so he wouldn't fall over.

"Who?" she asked, concerned. So they really hadn't heard anything about what had happened. "Edmund, tell us what happened." He remained silent for a moment longer, considering how much he should tell, and how much he should let Alea share. But then he decided that she would probably much rather he do it.

"Alea. When I went to go find her, she was laying on the floor of her room, bleeding from both wrists. She nearly died. The damage was self-inflicted, and I should have stopped it." The emptiness in his voice was surprising to all of his siblings, judging by their expressions. And they had a right to be surprised- why should he, King Edmund the Just, be so emotionally invested in a girl he'd just met? It was very strange of him. He never really so much as looked at women, never flirted, never teased. It wasn't something he felt an urge to do, much unlike his brother, who was the definition of a ladies' man.

"By the lion," Peter said under his breath, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't see that coming. Is she okay?" The golden-haired king was concerned, yes, but didn't seem as broken about it as Edmund felt. And why should he be?

"Yes. She is well enough to receive visitors," Edmund said, nodding slightly, eyes still unfocused and glazed. At his words, Susan and Lucy grasped each other's hands, eyes lighting up.

"Can we please visit her?" Lucy begged, puppy-dog eyes turned now to Peter. He could never say no to her. When he acquiesced, smiles broke out on the young queens' faces, and they grabbed their brothers, tugging them along as they rushed out the door. Edmund and Peter managed to disengage themselves from the grips of their sisters, and walked at a normal pace, Peter carefully watching Edmund's face with his searing blue eyes, studying his features and expression.

"So, are you going to tell me why this affected you so much, or am I going to have to guess?" Silence met his query for a few moments, but Peter didn't lower his gaze. He _would_ have answers. Finally Edmund sighed, a deep, heaving breath that released much of the tension in his carriage.

"I don't know, Pete. It's strange- from the moment I saw her, she just felt… different somehow. I can't explain it, but I feel drawn to protect her just as strongly as if she was Susan or Lucy." Here Edmund took a pause, trying to sort through his thoughts before continuing. "Seeing her in pain just feels wrong, and it's tearing my heart in half. Why, Peter? Why?"

Peter stopped, thinking for a moment, continuing to stare at his brother. This was something Edmund never thought his brother would ever witness- seeing him completely and utterly vulnerable and weak. It was strange to be baring his soul to his brother, but he was doing it. "You know what I think?" Peter began, fingers playing absentmindedly with the leather-bound hilt of his sword. "I think you're falling in love with her."

Edmund's face wrinkled in shock at Peter's words. "Love? You're crazy. I just met her a few days ago, and you're talking about falling in love? I shouldn't have told you anything." He turned his face away, dark brown eyes brooding and murky. Peter couldn't be right. He just couldn't.

"Ed." Hesitantly, the younger of the two siblings turned back to his elder brother, face nearly pleading for an answer. "You know I'm right." And Edmund did, but he refused to say it, to acknowledge it. Because if he did, that stoic, reserved façade that he'd spent years perfecting would have been cracked, and by a woman he'd known for less than a week. But Peter was right. And he hated that.

With another sight, Edmund began to walk toward the room where Alea was being kept, relieved that the sound of Peter's footsteps followed him without another word. Perhaps he could still emerge from this unscathed.

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><p><em>Alea's POV<em>

The sound of approaching steps made Alea tense up a little. It was only a matter of time before Edmund told the rest of the royals what had happened to her. But she did wish he'd waited a little longer. Ah, well, it couldn't be helped. She couldn't change anything that had already happened, as much as she wanted to. Couldn't bring Thoreau back, couldn't stop herself from breaking that mirror and cutting herself with the shards. It was too late for all that now. And she had but a moment to gather herself before Susan and Lucy burst into the room, joy on their features.

"Thank Aslan you're alright, Alea," Susan said as she came to the side of the bed, reaching out and resting a hand on Alea's shoulder. Lucy nodded in agreement as she stood next to her sister, relief on her face. "We were so worried."

"No one told us anything," Lucy added, eager to get her two cents in. "We're just glad you're okay now. It was a long night." Alea felt her guilt lighten a little, though the majority of the bulk continued to weigh her down.

"I'm sorry I caused you any worry," the tiny redhead said, expression apologetic. "I wasn't using my head. I just wanted it all to be done." Both of the other girls grew quiet and pensive, and it was lucky that Peter chose that moment to make his entrance, or the silence could have lasted a while.

"Alea, so glad to see you're okay," the golden-haired king said with a smile, bowing in the entrance as he moved aside to let Edmund in. Alea was surprised to see him back- he looked moody and troubled, and wouldn't meet her gaze. Feeling embarrassed, she averted her gaze, turning it instead to Peter, who hadn't said anything more since Edmund had entered.

"Yes, thank you," she said, a small smile pulling at one corner of her mouth at the sight of the siblings. She was grateful to them for caring, though inside she felt like they shouldn't. But Alea had always been an actress, so pretending to be better and happy wouldn't be difficult. The four stayed and talked to her a while longer, though Edmund said nothing for the entirety of their visit. Eventually, they made their excuses and took their leave, and Alea was left alone again, with nothing but the flickering light of candles to keep her company as the darkness of night descended.

As she lay in the bed, thoughts running faster than a wild mustang, the sudden gust of warm air beside her head startled her from her reverie. She jumped, turning her head, and her eyes widened when she saw the massive golden snout beside her. Sitting straight up, muscles screaming in protest, the only sound she made was a tiny squeak. It was Aslan.

His commanding presence filled the room, and it seemed as though candles were no longer needed- a strange golden glow seemed to emanate from his long body, though he wasn't lit up. Alea felt her heart sink. Perhaps he had come to kill her, or discipline her for being disobedient. But then she hardened slightly toward him- he was the one who had gotten her into this mess, prevented her from getting out of it. This was all his fault. What the hell did he think he was doing, coming back here? So help him, she was going to give him a piece of her goddamn mind.

"Alea." The golden lion's tone swept all of the rebellion out of her mind like it was nothing but dust, leaving in its place sorrow and the full weight of what she had done. "Why did you attempt to take yourself from this world?" His mellifluous voice had a hint of sadness and hurt in its tone, and his eyes held a world of sorrow. Alea wanted to avert her eyes, look at anything but him, but his golden gaze had her locked firmly in its grasp. She couldn't move.

"I-I," she stuttered, feeling terrible. "I'm sorry, Aslan. So sorry." The lion merely looked at her for a moment, his penetrating gaze making her feel like squirming. He made her feel guilty, but at the same time forgiven.

"I forgive you, my child," he began, eyes still locked on hers. "But I want you to know that by doing what you have done, you have hurt me. I placed you here to continue living, to learn the things you had not yet learned in your world before you pass on to my country. Do not take yourself from this life before it is truly your time, or you will find that my country is not the place for you." His words, cryptic though they were, made sense in a way. She felt as if a portion of the weight of her sorrow had been lifted, and was replaced by hope.

"But why?" she asked in a tiny voice, about to give voice to the question that had been on her mind since she had arrived here. "Why me? People die every day, every minute. Why me?" At her words, Aslan merely chuckled, a glint returning to his eyes.

"Now, my child, I cannot tell you that. There is a reason for everything, let that be enough for you." Alea's cheeks reddened, and she looked away, finding herself capable of movement now. "Know, too, that when your time comes, Thoreau will be waiting for you in my country. That is my final gift to you. Do not waste your life here. Spend it wisely."

"I will, Aslan," Alea said, looking from her blanket-covered legs to his face, but it was no longer there. Surprised, she looked around the room, searching for a hint of his whereabouts. A lion of that size couldn't just disappear, but for the second time since her arrival, he did just that. And she found that it didn't bother her nearly as much this time. Her thoughts still churning, she laid back, resting her head on the pillow. His visit, while quelling some of her fears, had not answered the one question that still haunted her. Why had he picked her? She wasn't worth his time, nor his effort, and yet he was spending it on her. Giving her life where she had been without.

And Thoreau was waiting for her in the afterlife. That thought brought a smile to her face, and peace to her heart. She would see him again. Perhaps he would talk too, like some of the animals here were rumored to be able to. With a sweet expression on her face, Alea closed her eyes and sank into a deep sleep that she hoped would restore her soul and heal her mind.

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><p><strong>Another AN:** I've decided that this will most definitely stay canon. The Pevensies will all go back to England unmarried, and by themselves. No worries. And, another extra tidbit: the song I listened to while writing this chapter is When David Heard, composed by Eric Whitacre and sung by the BYU Singers. I maybe cried a little bit. If you sit and really listen to it, the dissonance and the ascension/descension at the climax, and the meaning of the words, it's truly powerful.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews and favorites, it's really quite encouraging. For the record, finals are officially over, and I ACED them, so my updates should in theory come a lot sooner. (Just so you're all aware of how proud I am, I got solid A's on my college calculus, biology, English and US history finals. SO HAPPY.) So this chapter may be a little all over the place, and if it is, just forgive me- I'm ecstatic and a little scatter-brained at the moment.

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><p><em>King Edmund's POV<em>

Edmund, in comparison to the object of his thoughts, did not sleep well that night. His mind would not stop _thinking_, and his head felt full to the point of bursting. And all of his mental energy was focused on one thing, one person. Alea. But why? The root of his turmoil was a simple question that he had not the answer for. Why her? He didn't know that she had been asking the very same question before falling asleep that night. But she wasn't thinking of him the way he was of her, that he knew. She couldn't be.

For some reason, his mind kept wandering back to one of two instances- those eyes, those jade-hued eyes that had stared right into him before she fled, before she tried to remove herself from this world, and that single moment where he'd been vulnerable before her, showed his emotion, and she hadn't laughed him off. He never opened himself up to others, not even his siblings. He was stoic and reserved, and sometimes could be considered aloof, but he had shown a piece of his heart to Alea that day, and he wasn't sure what the repercussions of that could be.

King Edmund was not the journaling type- indeed, no one here in Narnia had ever really even heard of the idea. They weren't the kind of people who wrote down their thoughts for personal use, at least not the ones he'd had experience with. But as he sat there, staring at the cold stone floor, the idea became a little more appealing. No. He didn't need to write his thoughts down for them to make sense. He needed to sleep. Yes, maybe that would straighten things out for him. If his mind would stop churning for a few minutes, long enough for him to become blissfully unaware, then perhaps things would be clearer in the morning

Climbing into his bed, he pulled the simple covers up to his chin, closing his eyes. Impermeable darkness surrounded him, paralyzing him, and Edmund slowly relaxed every muscle in his lean, toned body, trying to fall asleep before his mind caught up with what he was doing. And luckily for him, it worked, and he lost consciousness, falling into the deep abyss of dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Edmund awoke feeling refreshed, but unfortunately, his mind was no less productive. As soon as he opened his eyes, his brain assaulted him with tumbling cascades of images, words, and thoughts that all continued to be centric around Alea. Perhaps visiting her would do him some good, and clarify his feelings a bit. Sighing, the dark-haired king sat on the edge of his bed, reluctant to get up and start his day. Looking out the window, he realized that the sun had not yet truly risen, and there was barely any movement audible in the castle. So he was up early. Perhaps it would be for the better, give him more time to sort through his jumbled mess of thoughts, sift for the most important ones, the ones that would give him a clue as to what he was feeling. But, before he could take that any further, his stomach rumbled. It reminded him that he had not truly had a meal since Alea's attempt at self-harm. He had been worried, stressed, and guilty, and had not had a single thoughts for his own health.

Another sigh escaped his lips, and the king rose to his feet, running his hand through his mussed brown hair. Perhaps some cleaning up was in order. One thing Edmund did miss from back in England was the idea of a shower- they didn't have running water here, and it made cleaning up rather difficult unless one wanted to stand underneath a waterfall. But, they all made do with what was offered here, so Edmund found the bucket of water that was faithfully refilled each day by various castle staff, and the bar of soap and the towel that sat next to it. Surely there was a more convenient way to do this, but Edmund was rather unfocused, so he simply dunked his head into the wide-mouthed bucket, dousing his hair completely in water. He scrubbed quickly, removing any signs of dirt or grease, and dried it with the towel. Since it was not too long, unlike Peter's, it dried fairly quickly, and was almost completely dry by the time Edmund finished scrubbing his bare torso.

He dried himself quickly with the towel, pleased to see that he had managed to keep the floor from getting wet, and crossed to his wardrobe. Normally Edmund didn't give a damn what he wore, and all his clothes were conservative and simple. He was the polar opposite of his brother, who enjoyed clothing himself in gaudy and extravagant outfits that were of more use as decoration than actual apparel. But, that was beside the point. Edmund pulled on some simple, monochromatic clothes from his wardrobe, not really looking at what he'd chosen. As he pulled on his shoes, he wondered what Alea had seen that had made her go crazy. It had come out of what seemed like nowhere- she had been perfectly fine the evening before, if a little overwhelmed. Perhaps her grief had been very well hidden.

Unconsciously shrugging his shoulders, he ran his fingers through his hair again, which was now completely dry, and grabbed his sword, buckling it around his waist. He never went anywhere without it, purely out of habit. As he left his room, he glanced back at the window- the sun had hardly moved. Breakfast would be nowhere near ready, it was too early for that. He would make his own. The king was on his way down to the kitchen when a member of the castle staff stopped him.

"Your Majesty, this is for you." The young man handed him a plate of food, which was still warm. Edmund raised an eyebrow, confused. How had they known he was already up? Breakfast would not start for another hour, at least. "The cook was on her way down to the kitchen when she heard you get up, and thought you might be hungry." A gentle smile raised the corners of the king's lips, and he nodded his head to the man.

"Thank her for me, and you as well. It is much appreciated," Edmund replied, his expression lightening. Perhaps this day would not go as poorly as he thought it would. The man retreated with a bow, swiftly disappearing into the maze that was the castle corridors. Surprised at how ravenous he was, Edmund quickly consumed everything on the plate, inhaling it like he hadn't eaten in days. Well, he hadn't. The food tasted so good, he wasn't really watching where he was going, and he was a little surprised when he realized that he was already almost back to the hall where his rooms were, along with Alea's. Hers would be empty, he guessed, since she was being kept in the hospital wing of the castle, and the urge to enter her rooms was pressing strongly against his will, pulling him, tugging him. He gave in without much of a fight, leaving his plate on the floor outside his room.

When he entered, everything looked normal. The way it had when he had found her on the floor, and even before that. The front room was neat as ever, and nothing was out of place at a first glance. But when Edmund looked closer, he saw the dark red stain on the stone that crept out from the bedroom door- barely an inch, but still there. With a deep breath, he walked over to the oaken door, footsteps silent on the stone, and opened it. The stain grew larger now, and covered several feet of stone in a layer of dark red. A sharp pang ran through him. The doctor had been right, she had lost a lot of blood. More than he'd realized.

The noise of soft footsteps behind him startled Edmund, and he spun around, hand on the hilt of his sword, eyes wide as a frightened rabbit's. He was ashamed to be caught in someone else's rooms, but when he realized who it was that had caught him, his face flushed just enough to be noticeable. It was Alea.

Clothed in a simple dove-gray dress, the sleeves stopped at her elbows, exposing the white bandages that wrapped both wrists. Her fire-red hair was loose, tumbling in curls down to the slim curve of her waist. She looked beautiful, but also surprised to see him there. Alea was supporting herself against the wall, and her face was even paler than usual, which was saying something considering the natural pallor of her skin.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be here," Edmund began, heat still rising to his cheeks, turning them a slight shade of pink. He couldn't stop looking at her, though, at her eyes. They held his in a strange way, and they looked so different than they had before. Still full of sadness and loss, but they seemed almost resigned to her fate now. Less desperate, overwhelmed. Different.

"No, it's okay," she said in a soft voice, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't mind." Edmund felt silly now, like a young schoolboy caught cheating on a test. But she wasn't angry at him. Why not?

"I'll leave if you want," he stuttered, trying not to shrink away from her. She didn't seem to realize the effect she was having on him, and remained where she was for a moment, biting her lower lip before walking toward him, into her bedroom. Before she took more than a few steps, though, her face drained of color, and she reached out to support herself on the doorframe, but it was too far away.

Edmund saw her beginning to lose balance, and immediately reached out, catching her with his arm, keeping her upright. As soon as his skin touched hers, he felt the heat of their contact, like a searing flame racing up and down his nerves, burning to his brain. Her skin, cool and soft to the touch, felt divine against the slightly rougher work-hardened texture of his own calloused palm. Their eyes met for the second time, and everything was still for a moment as they stared at each other, both their gazes seeming to burn with flame, before they both pulled back, breaking the contact quickly. But Edmund's mind was reeling. What had passed between them when their eyes connected… he had no idea what it was, but it left his heart feeling like it had been set aflame.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, trying not to say anything that would make their situation any more awkward. "I didn't mean to-"

"I'm fine," she interrupted, steadying herself on the doorframe now that it was within reach. "I just got a little lightheaded. The doctor didn't want me up and moving this soon after losing that much blood, but I fought him for it." Edmund held back a sigh. They were both quite adept at avoiding the subject of what had just happened, and he found himself rather disappointed that it was over. He wanted to reach out, touch her face, her hair. To discover what her lips felt like against his- no! By Aslan, Peter was right. He couldn't let this happen. He could not be falling in love with this woman who, for all intents and purposes, could disappear the next day. He had built walls around his heart for a reason, and he'd be damned if this little woman had already found a crack in the stone.

"I should go," he said, avoiding her gaze. With a bow, he walked past her, his body and strides no longer loose and carefree. His tense demeanor was puzzling, he was sure, but perhaps she understood. Unable to help himself, he paused at the entry, looking back to see Alea right where he had left her, but this time with one hand pressed to her heart. He couldn't see her face, and it was probably a good thing. He left without another word.

As he closed the door behind him, his breath coming quickly, he leaned against it for a moment, mind still running circles around him. What had just happened? Edmund didn't know what to do. And, judging by what he'd seen before he left, neither did Alea.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **I am so sorry, you guys. I've had so much crap going on, I've just had no motivation to come update this. It's dumb, I'm sorry, but my life has been complete and utter crap these last few months. I should be updating more frequently now, and I'm so so sorry it hasn't been sooner. This chapter will probably seem a little weird and a little off, but let it go (; I'm trying to get back into it, and I'm finding it to be quite difficult. That being said, feel free to offer some gentle nudging to get me in the right direction again!

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><p>It figured that one of Edmund's siblings would pick that exact moment to walk through the corridor. And it figured that the sibling would be the nosiest of them all, his little sister Lucy. The young queen, who had grown tall and fair during their time in Narnia, spotted her brother pressed to the wall, and sauntered over to him. She held a fresh daisy in one of her palms, and absentmindedly held it to her nose as she narrowed her dark eyes at him. He sighed. The questions were inevitable when it came to Lucy- she always had to know exactly what was going on.<p>

"Ed," she said, appearing to scrutinize every aspect of his appearance, from his flustered expression and red cheeks to his mussed hair and rumpled clothes. She always knew when there was something amiss, and Edmund was sure that his heavy breathing did nothing to assuage her instincts.

"Yes, Lucy?" Edmund replied, hoping that she would just let it be. But he could never be so lucky. Looking away from his face, his sister began to nonchalantly pluck the petals from her daisy, one at a time, watching them flutter to the floor like butterfly wings caught in a breeze. Edmund resisted the urge to swallow nervously. Lucy was the most frightening of his siblings, and she was more than capable of kicking his rear end. It was a little sister thing.

"Why are you squished against the wall outside Alea's room?" She asked the question with such innocence, Edmund almost wondered if he was making the whole thing up, and she really had no idea what was going on. But he knew better. She was plotting, scheming, waiting to corner him and go in for the kill. "Is everything okay?"

"E-everything's fine, Lu, why- why would you think anything different?" He was struggling, trying not to let her know what was going on. She simply raised an eyebrow at him, staring him down, ignoring the now-bare stem of her daisy as it fell from her open hand, floating gently to the ground to join its petals. He swallowed, hating himself for being nervous because his little sister had a pair of eyes, and she _saw._

"Oh, I don't know, dear brother. Why don't you tell me?" She gave him the once-over, and Edmund knew that if he didn't get out of there soon, he'd be done for. Lucy had a way of wriggling into your thoughts until you simply opened your mouth and told her everything. He suppressed the urge to swallow again, blinking fiercely as he stammered for a reasonable excuse to get away from her.

"I-I have to go, I p-promised-" Without finishing his sentence, he darted away from his sister, leaving her behind as fast as he could. There was no way he was going to tell little Lucy the details of his heart. No, there was no way, although he was sure she'd find out anyway. She did that. Little sisters. They always found out.

Alea stood, head spinning, hand pressed to her chest for a while after Edmund left her. What had he done? When his hands touched her, she felt so _electrified_, as if she was being shocked with a high-voltage battery. His fingers left a trail of fire on her skin, and her heart was beating erratically, even after he had left. And now that he was gone, she felt her body aching for his touch, longing for him to come back and hold her, kiss her, just to touch her. Silent but for her frantic breathing, she leaned her head against the cool wooden doorframe, trying to catch her breath. She didn't even hear the voices outside, conversing casually. Her heartbeat filled her ears, pounding like a drum. It took her a moment to realize someone was talking to her.

"Alea? Alea, can you hear me?" The tiny redhead turned her head as she realized that the words were coming from someone behind her. When she realized it was Lucy, she relaxed her body, some of the tension leaving, though most remained. "There we go. Are you alright?"

"I don't know," answered Alea honestly, her eyes not really focusing on Lucy. "I feel… different. And it's not just because I'm tired." Lucy smiled, appearing quite pleased with herself. A smug grin settled on her features, and she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall.

"Knew it." Lucy smirked, watching Alea's expressions with critical eyes. The redhead blushed, knowing that the queen could- and would- read her like a book. "You two _like_ each other." Finally, someone said it. They liked each other. To Alea that seemed a little strange- how did she know he was even real? And yet, the memory of his skin touching hers, rough and warm and _alive_, lingered in her mind, assuring her that he was. He had, little by little, slowly begun to fill the hole that Thoreau had left in her heart, trying to stopper a gaping wound, the edges ragged and torn. It seemed strange that he could succeed.

Alea couldn't come up with a good response, merely stood there, flushed, stammering. "I-I," she struggled, breathing beginning to slow as she resigned herself to the knowledge with an eventual sigh. "You're right. Maybe I do find myself attracted to him." She was trying to avoid the rather teenage phrase of 'liking' someone, though Lucy seemed perfectly fine using it.

"I'm always right, Alea. If you're going to stick around here, you should learn that," grinned the young queen, beginning to saunter out of the room with a mischievous glint in her eye. "And I think it's about time you and my dear brother got on with it." Before Alea could say anything, the girl's shape had disappeared around the corner, and she was gone.

The small woman found herself dwelling on the queen's words, trying not to let herself truly believe them. It couldn't be this way. She was dead. Really, truly dead in her own world, hardly alive in theirs. And Edmund was still alive, still had a body and a life back on Earth. She couldn't expect him to love her. This whole situation was just so strange that she didn't know what to do. But there was one thing she knew for certain- if she was, as Aslan said, put in this world to learn something, then what better to learn about than love? Alea made her mind up to just tell him how she felt. It was all she could do, and she had the feeling that she would hate herself if she did nothing.

Steeling herself for what she was about to do, Alea allowed herself a moment longer to regain her composure and balance, briefly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she refocused her gaze, her hands clenched slightly into fists, but she began to walk forward, gait slightly stiff. But before she knew it, she had left her rooms behind and was making haste down the hallway, looking for Edmund. The maze of corridors on this floor of the castle brought her past countless doors that presumably housed the nobles that were here for Susan's wedding. She didn't really know where she was, but eventually she found Edmund.

His lithe, lean figure was leaning against the stone wall, a slightly dazed, frightened expression on the angular planes of his handsome face. Alea stopped in her tracks, breathing quickening, hesitant to approach him. He was muttering something under his breath, but Alea was too far away to catch it, so she approached him slowly, trying not to lose her nerve, and called his name.

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><p>When her soft voice spoke his name, Edmund was pulled out of his daze, head snapping up, eyes widening. She was standing a few feet away from him, and the young king could plainly see her mind racing as she stood. Her flaming hair fell in waves, partially obscuring her face, and he couldn't help himself from reaching out and tucking one side behind her ear, and she froze as soon as his hand brushed her face, and he immediately drew back.<p>

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" he began, apology covering his features, dark eyes holding nothing but concern. He didn't want to push her too far. She slowly relaxed her body, sighing once. When she lifted her eyes to his, Edmund didn't quite know what to say. Her green eyes held a lot of things, a jumbled mess of emotions and thoughts that he couldn't quite sift through. He saw sorrow, confusion, pain, fear, and a hint of something that he was too tentative to name.

"It's okay," she replied, swallowing once. Was she nervous? "Edmund, I… I just wanted to tell you that… Oh god, I'm sorry." Turning her face away, she closed her eyes, apparently trying to refocus. In one swift step, Edmund closed the distance between them, placing his hand gently on her shoulder, using the other to cup her chin and turn her face back to his.

"No, what's troubling you?" he asked, eyes gentle and warm. He couldn't stand to see her upset, and he was getting an inkling of where this was going. "You can tell me." His thumb rested on her cheek, and he resisted the urge to stroke her soft skin, though it felt warm and smooth beneath his finger.

"Okay, okay. Edmund, I think- I think I'm in love with you." As soon as she blurted the words out, Edmund could see her tense up again, could feel it under his hands. That blush he loved rose to her cheeks, colouring her pale face. He smiled, and as soon as he did, Alea stopped fidgeting, growing still. Slightly incredulous, he just stared at her for a moment. This was the strangest relationship he'd ever had, but he couldn't deny that there was an attraction between him and Alea that had been there from the first time he'd seen her.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that," the king smiled, finally letting his thumb wander over the planes of her cheek, marveling in the feeling of her skin beneath his. As he stared at her, he was drawn into her eyes- he'd never realized how long and thick her dark eyelashes were, framing her green irises perfectly. She was incredibly beautiful to him, despite what she'd been through. Or maybe because of what she'd been through. He didn't know.

"You mean you're not mad?" Alea asked, barely able to push sound out of her throat, and Edmund chuckled.

"Why on earth would I be?" And with that, he leaned forward slightly, having to bend down a little so their faces were closer together. As if some kind of magnet was pulling them toward each other, their lips moved closer and closer. Both of their eyes closed, and for a moment it was as if all the air between them was sucked out, leaving a vacuum of empty space before their lips touched in an explosion of fire and heat. A spark jolted Edmund's body, traveling through him, singing his nerves and warming him. Her lips molded perfectly to his, and he was about to move in and deepen the kiss when the loud _clang_ of metal hitting the stone floor broke into their kiss.

Pulling away, Edmund turned to see one of the castle servants drop a tray on the ground, mouth slightly open in shock. Alea's face instantly turned an even deeper shade of red, but Edmund moved his grip to her waist, keeping her close. He could barely contain his grin, and he sensed that although Alea was embarrassed, she couldn't either.

"My apologies my lord," the servant said, bowing several times as he picked up the tray, unable to hide his surprise. "I didn't mean to interrupt you, I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Edmund chuckled, dismissing him with a clear nod. "Was there something you needed?"

"I was just supposed to tell you that lunch is about to be served, but if you would rather I bring something to your rooms for you and the lady-"

"That won't be necessary, I am not my brother," Edmund said firmly, again dismissing the servant. "Thank you." Peter was known to take castle staff or village girls or visiting noblewomen to his rooms and stay there for hours on end, doing Aslan knows what. Well, Edmund pretty much knew, he'd heard them often enough, but he wasn't that kind of man. He was no virgin, thanks to Peter's encouragement and some wily nymphs, but he had never really been with a woman he loved. Probably because he'd never really _loved_ anyone. But it seemed like that had changed.

As the servant left with a bow, Edmund turned to Alea, releasing his grip on her waist. His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her, and she allowed a smile to turn up the corners of her lips as he gazed at her. "Well, milady, shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm.

"If you say so," Alea replied, fake-curtsying. She wasn't very good at it, but Edmund found it endearing. When she took the proffered arm, he smiled again, kissing her chastely on the forehead before escorting her down to the dining hall. He snuck a glance over her way as they walked, admiring how proudly she bore the bandages on her forearms, not attempting to hide them. Though people stared as they reached the dining area, she did not appear ashamed. Besides, he was escorting her, so who would dare to say anything?

As they took their seats at the table, Alea sitting on the right of Edmund, Susan sent a gentle smile her way. "It's nice to see you up and about, dear." Alea acknowledged her words with a nod, her fiery hair spilling over one shoulder. Her lips parting to expose a smile, she glanced over at Edmund, whose gaze hadn't left her since they had sat down.

"I told you so," Lucy interjected, leaning over to pat Edmund on the shoulder. He sighed. Why did little sisters always have to be right?


End file.
